


Thirst

by ohnojustimagine



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnojustimagine/pseuds/ohnojustimagine
Summary: This one is different.
Relationships: Matt Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	Thirst

You’ve mostly found that when you pick up random guys in bars, it all goes a lot more smoothly if you at first dance around the subject a little, ease into things enough that you don’t scare them off before you’re ready to get down to business. But this guy, you’ve already decided, is different. Because while he might be exceptionally pretty, he’s also quite _remarkably_ dumb, dumb enough that you being subtle would likely be a total waste of time.

So as soon as you get him back to your apartment and into your bedroom, you just say it, outright.

And he looks at you.

“You’re a vampire?” His head is tilted to the side, as if it’s an actual, physical effort to get his brain to wrap around the concept. “A _vampire_. For real?”

“For real.”

“Huh.” He nods, slowly. “I thought you were just, you know, sophisticated or British or something.” He smiles at you. “You’re kind of not my usual type.”

“I’m not?” You raise your eyebrows, unsure whether or not you should be insulted.

“Oh no,” he assures you. “You’re hot, for sure. Just…” He gestures at you. “ _Fancy._ ”

“Well,” you say, “I do try.”

“But you’re really a vampire?”

You sigh, because it will be easier to just show him, so you breathe in, letting your hunger flare like a spark inside you, the room coming into bright relief as your eyes flicker yellow into hunting mode, teeth descending to become visible.

“Cool,” the guy mutters under his breath. You don’t remember his name, you realize, but then it doesn’t matter who he is.

He raises his hand, lets it hover near your mouth. “Can I?”

“Of course,” you answer, and he runs a careful, curious fingertip down one of your teeth.

“Sharp,” he says, thoughtfully, then steps back, standing up straighter. “So I’m guessing you want to drink my blood?”

“I do,” you reply, grateful, wishing all your encounters could be this straightforward.

“Cause I’ve gotta say I was definitely hoping you’d be willing to like, exchange fluids and all but I wasn’t really thinking blood, you know.”

“We can do that too,” you tell him. “The other… fluids. After.”

“We can?” he says, smiling. “Awesome.” He pulls his t-shirt off, over his head, and oh _my_ , you think, because he really is _very_ , very built. All those muscle, so solid with flesh, every inch of it fed by blood, networks of veins and arteries filled liquid and red.

You rest your hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling it beat beneath your palm, and you inhale, greedy for it. “You’ll find the feeding ritual is quite pleasurable…” you pause, just for effect, then add, voice deliberately low “…quite _erotic_.”

His eyes go wide for a second, and when you focus in your senses, you can smell his arousal. “Erotic,” he repeats, his voice cracking slightly on the word. “Well, I’m super into the erotic.”

“You’ll probably feel weak,” you warn, softly, caressing his chest, your thumb rubbing one nipple into at tight, hardened nub. “You might not be able to say no.”

“As if I’d say no to a bangin’ hottie like you,” he says. “And anyway, I think this right here…” He grabs the front of his jeans, tugging at his crotch. “This’ll be all the yes you’ll need, babe.”

You stifle a small, exasperated sigh, because you have the distinct feeling you’re going to regret this, but you’re way too hungry to stop now, and so you move back. “Take off your pants,” you order, and he grins at you.

“The sexiest four words a woman can say.” He unzips his jeans, bending to peel them off down his legs and tossing them aside with a melodramatic flourish, then sits down on the end of the bed, dressed only in a red pair of boxer briefs. He brushes his hair back over one shoulder, leaning enough to expose his neck, looking up at you with an expectantly goofy smirk.

“No,” you tell him, shaking your head. “The wrist is better.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” he says, offering you one hand. It’s pleasingly large, palm and fingers callused from the gym, but the skin on the inside of his wrist is still soft as you hold it. You lower your head to lick, sweat and salt on your tongue preparing your palate for the contrasting sweetness of blood. “Do it,” he says, like he can’t wait, eager for it, and so you do, biting down lightning quick, teeth puncturing the vein as you suck, beginning to feed.

And he tastes even better than you imagined, his blood richly flavored, a satisfying fullness to it that makes you light-headed, wanting for more.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, _wow_ , that’s…” He sways for a second, as if he’s going to fall, but then rights himself. “That feels… whoa, yeah, _real_ good.”

You suck harder, swallowing down, drinking deeper than you normally do, but he’s big enough that you’re reasonably certain he can take it. “ _So_ good,” he murmurs, and this time he does fall backwards onto the bed, and you’re tempted to just keep going, drain him dry, but that wouldn’t be polite.

Though he’s definitely even prettier when he’s not talking, so when you’re sufficiently sated, you stop, wiping impatiently at the corners of your mouth before dragging him up the bed, not even pausing as you pull off his underwear.

He doesn’t offer any resistance, and you find that his cock is as thick as the rest of him, hard and so filled with blood that you have to lean down, breathe in the scent of it, your tongue darting out to trace a path up the shaft.

He laughs, lazily, like he’s high on it. “Watch those fangs, lady.”

“I know how to be careful,” you tell him.

“Don’t worry,” he drawls out, “I trust you.”

Which is… _god_ , you think, just so hopelessly naive that you’re almost tempted to nip at his cock to teach him a lesson, but there’s also something strangely enchanting about it. You would have thought you were far too jaded to be swayed by the charms of someone this simple, but you’re surprised to realize that this guy is kind of doing it for you.

And so you strip off your clothes, climbing up over him, admiring the beautifully sculpted body sprawled out before you; utterly under your control and temptingly, achingly ripe for the taking. You stroke his cock, feeling it throb under your touch, and you can’t wait any longer, positioning yourself and slowly sinking down onto him.

“Yeah,” he says, his exhale almost a moan. “Man, your pussy’s like, chill, baby.”

“Yes,” you reply. “That’s a thing.” _Lower body temperature_ , you would explain, but you don’t think he cares.

“Feels good though,” he murmurs, shifting underneath you, but then he opens his eyes enough to look at you. “So, does my dick feel all nice and warm to you?”

“It does,” you say. “But you know what will feel even better?

He grins, eyes brighter, like he’s coming back to himself. "Me shooting a big old hot load inside you?”

And that might be the most appalling choice of words imaginable, and yet somehow, despite yourself, you laugh, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re just…” You stop, frowning to yourself.

“I’m what?”

“You’re not _my_ usual type,” you admit.

“Is that good or bad?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“I think it’s good,” he tells you. He grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing it. “Now ride me, you bloodsucker.”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry,” he says, smirking, not looking even remotely contrite.

And you might shake your head, but still, you start to move.


End file.
